Love and Spite
by Miss Wholock Shipper
Summary: Molly goes on a few dates with Lestrade and Sherlock misses the mortuary. Molly/Lestrade and Sherlolly. T for safety.
1. Chapter 1

**Love and Spite  
**

_Post-Reichenbach and Post-Reunion_

**Chapter One**

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"Hey Molly! How are you?" Mary practically yelled across the hospital lobby to Molly, who was just entering.

"Hi Mary! I haven't seen you in absolutely ages," Molly replied.

"I know. We should catch up sometime, what about tomorrow for lunch at the café down the road?"

"Sounds great, see you then!" Molly threw over her shoulder as she walked towards the lift to begin her working day. As she walked into her lab, she could tell by the two coats hanging up that Sherlock and John were already present.

"Hello Molly, a bit late, aren't you?" Sherlock commented. "But then, having a cat with gingivitis doesn't aid punctuality."

"How did you know that Toby-"Molly started, but then she realised that it was Sherlock, and he knew everything. Everything except how to read human emotions. She had been working with Sherlock since before he met John, and he still had no idea how much she loved him. He knew she found him attractive, as shown by his compliments when he needed something. Even though Molly knew he didn't mean any of them, they still made her heart flip and her stomach swoop. Sometimes she wished she was like Sherlock, and didn't have any feelings at all.

The next day, Moll was just about to head out for her lunch date with Mary when John and Lestrade walked in.

"Sorry to bother you, Molly, but could we have a look at some samples?" John asked.

"I'm meeting a friend for lunch now, how about when I come back?"

"Sure, see you then," Lestrade said. "We may as well grab something to eat too, John." And with that, the three of them exited the lab. Molly hailed the first cab and told John and Lestrade to meet her back at Bart's in two hours.

One cab ride later, Molly walked into the café to see Mary waving at her frantically, and she suppressed a smile at how enthusiastic her friend was. Molly walked over and sat at the table, all the while chatting to Mary about everything that had happened since they had seen each other last.

"And Sherlock… still no luck?" Mary asked, and Molly nodded glumly. "Cheer up, Molly, someday he'll figure out what he's been missing."

"Yeah, I wish." At that moment, Molly noticed John and Lestrade entering the café, and she called out to them.

"Hello Molly, I didn't expect you to be here," John exclaimed.

'I didn't expect _you_ to be here, John. You might as well join us, we haven't ordered yet. Mary, these are my friends John Watson and Greg Lestrade. Boys, this is my old friend from university Mary Morstan."

"Delighted to make your acquaintance," John murmured, and Molly smirked as she realised he was turning on the charm for the attractive blonde.

"Watch out for that one, Mary, he's a sweet talker alright," Lestrade joked.

The lunch went well, and Mary and John got along like a house on fire. Lestrade was nice, but Molly only thought of him as a friend and nothing more. After all, she was and had been hopelessly in love with Sherlock for years. Lestrade didn't seem to realise, though, as he was sitting rather close to her and laughing too much at her reasonably pathetic jokes for her liking. And afterwards, Mary had hinted heavily that he and Molly should go on another date. By themselves. Molly was appalled. Then Lestrade asked her to dinner, and she couldn't bring herself to say no. She was going on another date with Lestrade. Oh no.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to Rocking the Redhead, DannyKatz, Saavikam69 and magicstrikes :)**

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**Chapter Two**

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It was the day of Molly's dinner with Lestrade, and she was dreading it. She would go, of course, she was too nice to stand someone like Lestrade up. But still, she found herself wishing that she hadn't said yes. Then she wouldn't be stringing him along like this. But still, one date couldn't hurt, could it?

At work she couldn't concentrate and only got three autopsies done, too busy thinking about her dinner date. Sherlock noticed this, but chose to ignore it, for whatever reason. John didn't, however.

"Are you alright, Molly? You seem distracted."

"I'm fine, thanks, just thinking about my date tonight with Lestrade," Molly revealed timidly. At this, Sherlock looked up at her sharply, his brow furrowed. _That caught his attention_, she thought.

"You're going on a date with Lestrade?" Sherlock asked disbelievingly. When Molly nodded shyly in reply, he continued to stare at her curiously for a while before returning to his work. John shot an inquisitive look his way before going back to his slides. Sherlock's behaviour was peculiar, Molly thought, as usually he didn't care what social activities people were participating in. This was an enigma, to be sure.

* * *

Sherlock was examining a sample of vegetation from a crime scene when he heard Molly mention her date with Lestrade, and his head shot up. He was confused, which is a very rare thing for him. Why would Molly, the woman who had carried a torch for him for years, go on a date with a recent divorcee with a slight drinking problem? Surely she was better than that. He noticed John giving him a confused look, and realised he had been staring at Molly. He abruptly went back to his microscope, hoping Molly didn't notice his confusion.

In the cab on the way home, John started interrogating him.

"What was that for?"

"What? I did nothing wrong."

"You. Staring at Molly like that. You've never paid her any attention before except for when you needed a body, and then today you stare at her like she's the last woman on Earth."

"I did not stare at her like that," Sherlock complained, offended that John thought he had feelings of any kind.

"Oh, I see what's happened. You're jealous of Lestrade. You want Molly all to yourself."

"I do not! She can go on a date with whoever she wants to, it's fine by me. She could date half of London for all I care."

"You do care, Sherlock. You just don't want to admit it. But it will be easier when you do." Sherlock refused to talk to John for the rest of the cab ride, deeply affronted that he thought Sherlock had feelings for Molly. Sure, he relied on her to help him fake his death, and he would never want her to get hurt, but he didn't feel for her in that way, did he?

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**A/N: Rate, review, follow, favourite, all that jazz. Tips to help me improve are greatly appreciated. Till next time! :)  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to jellybean89k, ELY20, lostaunau11 Maia Longhorn, MarBre582, India'TeamStarkid'J, SammyKatz, and Rocking the Redhead :)**

**Chapter Three**

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Back at 221B, Sherlock was thinking over what John had said. Surely he didn't feel that way for Molly. Maybe he didn't want her to date Lestrade because it would limit the amount of time he could spend at the mortuary. But the pairing would also mean that Molly would be more likely to let Sherlock look at bodies for cases, as any cases he solved reflected well on Lestrade. And, he admitted to himself, Molly was certainly not ugly. In fact, she was attractive. It was just her way of stammering and blushing whenever he talked to her that he didn't like. He liked women that were assertive and bold. That's what he had seen in Irene Adler. From the moment she walked in, stark naked, he could sense her intelligence, determination and her fearlessness. But eventually, he saw through her and was repelled. She had bitten off more than she could chew with Sherlock, and was pretending to be someone she wasn't. Not like Molly. With her, what you saw is what you got. She was swett on the outside and the insi-

Sherlock realised the thoughts he was having and shook his head. Sentiment was creeping up on him again, and he couldn't afford it. The last time it had happened, he had been forced to fake his own death and hurt everyone around him. His only respite from the constant guilt was Molly. _His_ pathologist. Who was going on a date with Lestrade. Sherlock closed his eyes and went to his mind palace, as he needed a break from all of the unwanted and unidentifiable emotions. He walked down the grand corridor at the entrance to his palace and found himself outside the room with Molly's files in it. _Oh well_, he thought, as he turned the doorknob. At least here he could examine his feelings closely. He picked up a ruby-red file, and noticed it was the same shade as her favourite lipstick. As he opened it, he could see Molly's smiles. Some directed at him, some at others, some real, some fake. As he flicked through the collection, he noticed that all of the fake ones directed at him were after he had accidentally insulted her. He then noticed one wasn't a smile at all. It was hurt. It was from the Christmas party.

Sherlock didn't know what had come over him that day. He had seen that she had what he assumed to be a gentleman admirer, and had wanted him out of her life. Then it him. He was jealous. He _did_ love Molly. John was right.

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**A/N: Thanks to all the subscribers and reviewers :) Sorry about the short chapter, what do you think will happen next?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks to Byoken, cazualuser, India'TeamStarkid'J, ELY20, Kathmak, SammyKatz, Rocking the Redhead, booklover669, AnaLupin, and jellybean89k.**

**Chapter Four**

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Molly was busy getting ready for her date with Lestrade. She didn't want to go, but her kind nature forbid her from standing anyone up. What was the worst that could happen? It wasn't like he was a psychopath, like Jim. He was just a man, albeit a man barking up the entirely wrong tree. Molly loved Sherlock and that was the end of that. No room for negotiations.

Molly looked in the mirror, resigned to her appearance. She had never felt beautiful in her life, and today was no exception. Her figure was too wide for her liking and her hair too unruly. Makeup made no difference and nothing worked out. At least, that was what Molly thought. In fact, most people (including Sherlock, though he'd hate to admit it) thought that Molly was quite attractive. If only she knew it.

Molly hailed a cab to the restaurant she was meeting Lestrade at. When she arrived, she waited at the bar for him, drinking wine. She didn't want to get drunk, but hey, you have to let your hair down occasionally, she reasoned. Plus, she needed to get her mind off Sherlock for one night. By the time Lestrade had arrived, she was already quite tipsy.

"You look amazing, Molly." Lestrade said sincerely. Molly giggled nervously before replying.

"Shall we sit down?" Lestrade nodded in agreement before showing Molly to their table. He awkwardly pulled out a chair for her and pushed it in too soon, causing Molly to land on it with a thump. It was little things like this that annoyed Molly on a date. The man could be completely agreeable, but if he had something wrong with his manners or the way he sat, Molly would never go on another date with him. That was probably why she never had many boyfriends, Molly thought. She had only ever had two, three if you counted Jim. But he didn't really count.

Molly was in the middle of her musings when she saw Sherlock run into the restaurant. _Oh god, he's handsome_, Molly thought. He ran up to the table where they were sitting and took a second to catch his breath. Molly could see his eyes flicking everywhere, deducing her at a glance. She felt her heart skip a beat as his eyes locked on hers and she unconsciously held her breath when he stepped up to her and took a deep breath.

"Molly, you need to come with me right now."

Molly's heart deflated. How dare he interrupt her date to help him with one of his stupid cases? She was going to stand up to him, for once in her life.

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Sherlock rushed into the restaurant, his heart pounding. He glanced at Molly, and felt his pulse race. She looked beautiful. Her dress perfectly accentuated her curves, and her makeup was perfectly done. Sherlock had come to confess his love for Molly, but when he heard the order pass his lips, he knew that it wasn't going to turn out the way he had planned. He was sounding too rude, too bossy. That was before she started yelling at him.

"How dare you interrupt my date just to let you into the mortuary! Some of us actually have things to do other than work! Can I have one single evening to myself without you butting in and ordering me around?"

Sherlock's spirits fell. This was not how he planned at all. It was time for drastic action. He grabbed Molly's hand and was about to profess his love in front of the entire restaurant, when her hand slid out of his grip and slapped him across the face.

"How dare you! You only ever notice me when you need something, and I'm not going to let you push me around anymore! I'm going home. Goodnight, Greg." And with that, Molly fled out of the room. Sherlock ran after her, being careful not to look at Lestrade's sorrowful expression. As he rushed out onto the street, he could see Molly in a cab, rushing away. His spirits fell for the second time that night. Now he would never be able to tell her. This was definitely _not_ what he had planned.

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**A/N: I've got complaints about the short chapters and I'll try to fix that, but it means I'll have to update less often, because it means a larger chance of me getting distracted by the wonders of YouTube. Please don't get angry :)  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks to Byoken, Guest, India'TeamStarkid'J, Danny-Bella-Gubler-Reid and ELY20.**

**Chapter Five**

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John was concerned about Sherlock. Ever since he had gone out on a mysterious errand a few nights ago, he'd been more subdued. He would mope around the flat all day, and not even the prospect of a triple homicide would get him excited. Something was seriously wrong. He would refuse to go outside at all, and would often not even bother getting dressed. Whenever John mentioned going to the mortuary, Sherlock would fly into such a rage that something would always end up in pieces on the floor. John was no consulting detective, but he knew that whatever had taken place had something to do with Molly, and he suspected it involved Molly's date with Lestrade and Sherlock's astonishing reaction when he found out it was going to happen.

John was musing on Sherlock's moodiness when the man himself entered the room. He didn't seem as angry as usual. In fact, he seemed positively happy. He walked up to John at sheepishly muttered,

"I need your help."

"Hang on, say that again," John said, grinning widely. Sherlock almost never admitted that he couldn't do something, and he wasn't going to let this pass easily.

"You heard me the first time," Sherlock scowled. "I need your help."

"Okay, okay. What is it?" John was anxious to know what he could do that Sherlock couldn't do himself.

"You... know... feelings and the like, yes?" Sherlock ventured tentatively.

"I guess, but if you want to know what someone's thinking, nobody can know that."

"Yes, yes, you've told me that before," Sherlock replied impatiently. "What I need help with is... how to make someone like you."

John was amazed. Sherlock had never cared of what people had thought of him before. But he could tell that Sherlock was very anxious about someone's opinion of him, and it didn't take a mind like Sherlock's to guess who.

"Alright, you finally figured out that you love Molly and you want her to love you back after some disaster that happened when you went out on the mysterious errand. Don't tell me I'm right, I already know I am." As John said this, he realised he was sounding a bit like Sherlock. Maybe the consulting detective was rubbing off on him.

"But how did you know?" Sherlock seemed dumbfounded that John knew who Sherlock was talking about and that something bad had happened with her.

"So this is how you feel when I don't deduce something straight away. Hmm, seems our roles have reversed, Sherlock." John smirked a little and Sherlock sent him a death glare and told him to just get on with it.

"Alright then, lets get started..."

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Molly was sitting at home going over the paperwork from the postmortems she had completed that week. She ran her fingers through her hair and glanced at the clock, which read 11:00. _I really should get to bed,_ she thought, but when she realised she only had one more sheet of paperwork to go she stayed up. It was 11:30 when she finished, but at least she was up to date on work. She was going to look awful in the morning, but it wasn't anything makeup and a hairbrush couldn't fix. She usually only wore lipstick, but when she wanted to impress someone (usually Sherlock) or she had been up late and didn't want to look like a zombie, she went the full mask. But, she reminded herself, this was not to impress Sherlock. No way. He had no respect for her anymore, and she was going to get over him. It might take a few dozen bars of chocolate, but she was going to get over him. She sighed and packed up her paperwork, ready to hit the sack. And she was _not_ going to dream about Sherlock. No way.

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**A/N:** **Sorry about the late update, I've got assignments and tests and I've started writing another story too :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks to all the followers and reviews and stuff :)**

**Chapter Six**

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John was a good instructor, and Sherlock an eager student. In one evening the pair of them had covered the basic tactics of how to seduce a woman, and John had planted the idea in John's head of taking Molly on a romantic dinner date. When and where, they had no idea. But it was a start. Time to start planning.

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Molly had just gotten off work when she received a text from Mary that said_ want to come out tonight? There's a new club the girls and I are visiting._ Molly was not in the best of moods, but she decided a night out was just what she needed to get her mind off Sherlock. _I'll be there_, she sent back. When she got home, she spent an hour getting ready. She usually didn't take so long, but tonight she was determined to have a good time and feel confident. She decided to wear a simple red backless dress. It wasn't too flashy, but it showed off her curves nicely. She did neutral makeup but with her favourite bright red shade of lipstick. She kept her hair down, but added some curls to frame her face. She chose black heels with red highlights that matched her dress. When she looked in the mirror, she felt a surge of pride. She didn't scrub up too badly.

Molly checked the clock to see that she wasn't too early and went outside to hail a cab. But when she got outside, she found one waiting for her, with Mary inside it. Molly's face lit up with pleasure when she realised her friend was going to extra trouble to make her feel comfortable. She clambered into the cab and grinned cheekily at Mary.

"Molly! You look amazing!" Mary acclaimed. "But you see, I have teensy bit of a confession to make," she continued. Molly raised an eyebrow as she glanced at Mary suspiciously.

"What is it? You aren't trying to hook me up with some guy, are you?"

Not exactly," Mary muttered sheepishly. "The thing is, we're not actually going clubbing. I just told you that so you'd doll yourself up and look nice."

"Where are we going then?" Molly hissed urgently.

"Erm, well, 221B Baker Street," Mary whispered, shamefaced.

"WHAT!? Why?"

"I don't really know exactly, I'm just paying off a favour for Sherlock."

"_Sherlock_ did this? And you don't even know why?"

"I have some idea, but I'm not allowed to tell you anything. I'm sorry to lied to you, but I'll hazard a guess that by the end of the night you won't be so mad at me."

With this mysterious statement from Mary, the cab pulled up to 221B and Molly got out. She was still furious at her friend, but she was also curious about what was going to happen, and why she needed to look nice for it. She tentatively rang the doorbell and waited on the step for someone to open the door. To her surprise, it was Sherlock who greeted her. It was usually John, as the consulting detective couldn't stand all the small talk that frequently happened.

"Molly, you look... beautiful," Sherlock breathed. Molly blushed profusely and couldn't reply. _He still reduces me to a bumbling mess, _she thought. She then made a promise to herself that whatever happened inside that apartment, she was not going to stutter, bumble, or embarrass herself in any way. Here goes nothing.

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Sherlock was extremely nervous, but he wasn't showing it. John had left half an hour ago, wishing him the best on his date. Since then the detective had been on high alert, waiting for the doorbell to ring. When he did finally hear the chime, he sprang out of his chair and ran to the door. He brushed himself off while he waited to catch his breath, and then he opened the door. He immediately lost his breath again. Molly was absolutely stunning. She wasn't trying too hard to look nice, and her dress showed off the curves that he loved so much. She did not look overly fake, but her favourite lipstick was the perfect touch, adorning those lips that he so longed to kiss. She shot him a nervous smile and he let go of the breath he didn't know he had been holding. At least she wasn't angry at him anymore. He felt the need to tell her how stunning she really looked, as she didn't seem to realise it.

"Molly, you look... beautiful," he breathed, stumbling over his words. _Smooth, real smooth_, he thought sarcastically. So this was how Molly felt every day. It was amazing she still liked him. Well, he hoped she did, although it was hard to tell because of her outburst the last time they talked. It was then that Sherlock realised he was blocking the doorway at staring blankly at Molly. He invited her in and closed the door behind him. Here goes nothing.

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**A/N: Next chapter's the date ;) Follow, favourite, review, stuff like that :) and sorry, the interweb's been stuffing up for me.  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks to all the followers, favouriters, readers and reviewers.**

**Chapter Seven**

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Molly smiled gratefully at Sherlock when he held the door open for her, and she tried to be as graceful as she could when she walked inside. She climbed up the stairs with Sherlock's assistance (heels were always so hard to move around in) and and gasped at what she saw. 221B had been completely transformed. Gone was the mess and the experiments, replaced by candles, flowers and an impeccably set table. Molly looked up at Sherlock, her eyes wide. He smiled at her, and she realised he had never smiled at her genuinely before that moment. His smile was like a movie star's, and Molly cleared her throat nervously.

"What is it? Is something wrong?" Sherlock asked anxiously.

"No, no," Molly reassured him hastily. "It's perfect. I was just wondering why you're doing this all... for me."

"Ah, we will get to that later in the night," Sherlock said, with a mischievous wink, which made Molly's heart flutter. "But for now," he continued, seemingly unaware of Molly's overwhelmed state, "would you like to join me in some dinner?" Molly promptly nodded her head, wondering if Sherlock had actually cooked something. He didn't seem like the kind of man that would whip up a romantic dinner. _Maybe he got Mrs Hudson to make something_, Molly thought. But her suspicions were proved wrong as Sherlock, wearing oven mitts and an apron, carried a dish of lasagna into the living room. Molly repressed a giggle at Sherlock looking so domestic; she usually only saw him in his tailored suits.

"I hope you like it," Sherlock said as he smiled at her again, "I made it myself." He dished it up and watched intently as Molly took her first bite, observing her reaction. Molly's eyes closed involuntarily as her senses were overwhelmed by the gorgeous vision in front of her and the gorgeous taste inside her mouth.

"Mmm, this is amazing," she breathed. She opened her eyes and cheekily grinned as she said "I never would have picked you out as the cooking type." His face lit up as he started laughing infectiously at her impudence, and Molly joined in.

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Molly and Sherlock finished the rest of their dinner, all the while talking about everything under the sun. Their conversation never faltered, and Sherlock found Molly more intelligent and captivating that he could have ever imagined. When they had finished eating, they agreed to take a break before dessert, as they were both extremely full. Sherlock helped Molly to the couch and sat down next to her. After more talking, Sherlock abruptly got up to fetch dessert. He brought through two plates, each with a massive slice of chocolate cake on them. They ate them in silence, Molly enjoying the delicious taste and texture of the cake, and Sherlock nibbling on his slice and being entertained by Molly's rapturous expression.

When they had finished dessert, Sherlock took both their plates away and returned with a CD player. Molly eyed him suspiciously, not knowing what was going to happen. Sherlock pressed play and Molly's favourite song started playing. He bowed to her and presented his hand.

"Would you do me the honour of dancing with me?" He asked softly. Molly took his hand without a word, marveling at how perfectly this evening had gone. They danced silently and closely, rocking back and forth. She rested her head on Sherlock's broad chest listened to his quiet breathing. He inhaled the intoxicating scent of her shampoo and smiled to himself as he started gently stroking her hair. Molly felt his hand on her head and looked up, smiling. Sherlock saw his chance and took it. He leaned down slowly, noticing with pleasure how Molly's pupils dilated. Their lips met, and Sherlock could no longer think straight.

Molly couldn't believe it. She moment she'd longed for had arrived, after years and years of waiting. Sherlock was kissing her. This evening was much better than she could have ever imagined.

"I love you, Molly Hooper."

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**A/N: I've decided to end the story here, as I'm not sure what else I could write. I'm going to upload the first chapter of a new story, if anyone's interested. Thanks to everyone who gave feedback and read and everything! I couldn't have done it without you :)  
**


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